


Before I Explain Anything

by My_Alter_Ego



Series: Holidays [11]
Category: White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Gen, St. Patrick's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29977143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Alter_Ego/pseuds/My_Alter_Ego
Summary: Peter suspects Neal is into forging gold coins. He is beyond angry and ready to derail their partnership.
Relationships: Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Series: Holidays [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025623
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	Before I Explain Anything

“Before I explain anything, why don’t you tell me what you think you know,” Neal says as he cocks an eyebrow at his handler. Peter had pulled his usual shtick of crashing Neal’s pad without knocking or any forewarning. Now the brash interloper had been brought up short, and with his hands on his hips, was glaring ominously at his CI.

“I don’t _think_ I know what you’re up to, Neal; unfortunately I _know_ what you’re up to,” Peter seethed.

“So, enlighten me,” Neal goaded, using one of his handler’s pet phrases.

“Is that really necessary?” Peter asked with all the sarcasm he could muster.

“Humor me,” Neal smiled.

“Okay, Buddy, I’m looking at a piece of equipment sitting on your table that I _know_ is a machine that heats soft metals and then embosses them onto a surface. I _know_ I’m seeing a dupe of a $50 Gold American Eagle coin mounted in the upper armature of the device, and I _know_ I see brass metal slugs being fed into a platen. I’m also very aware that there are sheets of gold leaf on the table as well as stacks of finished counterfeit coins.”

“Ergo?” Neal prompts.

“Ergo, I have concluded that you’re making a form of United States bullion that could fool the experts and net you around $2,000 per coin, maybe even more if the dates on them are older.”

“You really think they’re good enough to fool the experts?” Neal asked proudly as he picked up one of the Gold Eagles and peered at it critically. “I’ll admit it was a bit tedious to get Lady Liberty’s flowing tresses just right, and the folds in her skirt were challenging. But if you think I nailed it, thanks for the compliment, Buddy.”

Peter’s face had reddened and it was questionable where his systolic blood pressure was headed. “Neal, I don’t understand you!” he all but shouted.

“Yeah, well that’s a given,” Neal agreed.

But Peter wasn’t done blustering. “I’ve went out on a limb for you on occasions too numerous to mention because I hoped you’d get turned around eventually. But all my faith in you was misplaced. You seem to like being a White Collar criminal, and now your bottomless bag of tricks will put you in the Treasury Department’s crosshairs. I’m done, so done this time!”

“Well, before you wash your hands of me, Pontius Pilate, are you willing to hear my explanation?” Neal quipped.

“Oh, do tell,” Peter mocked. “I love a good yarn.”

“Right, and I aim to please, so listen up, Buddy,” the con man began his story. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the fabled pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It’s classic Irish lore, just like four-leaf clovers and leprechauns. My charitable landlady is on the board of the local hospital, so June is intending to visit each pediatric in-patient on St. Patrick’s Day to deliver pots of gold. My Lady Liberties will be nestled in those little kettles along with tiny leprechaun beanie babies and four-leaf clovers made out of green gummies.”

Peter wasn’t ready to buy Neal’s fable because he’d been burned before. “Neal, your replicas of this rare currency are too accurate to be squandered on unsuspecting kids. Just admit that you intend to pass them off as the real thing to dealers and collectors.”

“Now, that would be a hard sell, Peter,” Neal smirked as he passed the coin in his hand to Peter. “Look closely at the bottom right side where you’d normally find the date they were minted.”

Peter narrowed his eyes, but he did as Neal suggested. Instead of a year in that tiny space. Peter found himself staring at the initials “ _N C”_ in their place.

Peter was a bit flustered. “Neal, why would you expend so much time and effort into making trinkets that most kids will probably lose within a week?”

Neal smiled. “Because when I put my initials on any creation, it has to be perfect. I would think you’d know that by now.”

Peter opened his mouth to respond, but found he couldn’t find the words.

Neal finally took pity on his handler. “C’mon, Peter, sit down and relax. I don’t have any Guinness beer, but I may have a very fine Irish whiskey in my stash!”


End file.
